A big thanks to all my readers so far who have been along for the telling of my adventure! I will soon have a new novel as well it's about a D/s universe.
The impossible Prize
Aurianne paused as she set down her fine catch of tawny rabbits, five in all, her skin prickled and the hair on the nape of her neck stood on end warning of danger. Her shoulder still ached from today's hunt but she ignored the sensation, all senses focusing on the darkened rear of the cave, willing her eyes to adjust to the gloom.
She drew her dagger, barely drawing breath herself straining to hear every minute sound. The remnants of warm coals still smoked in the stone encircled hearth, the kindling and firewood exactly as she had left it. However the huntress in her told her in no uncertain terms someone had been, or was still here. If not in the cave then close by.
Aurianne trusted this instinct implicitly. Everything was where she had left it, but still her observations did not allay her reservations that her sanctuary had been breached. Cautiously blade in hand she made her way toward the dark recesses of her shelter. She felt so alive at this moment, every sense straining for a sound, sight, or scent, of the enemy. Slowly her eyes were adjusting to the lack of light and she scanned every boulder and dark recess for the unseen threat.
Aran crouched still as stone he was a hunter too, and the hunt had been long. His hard bronzed body unmoving, taking in the vision of the woman he had never hoped to find. His thick mane of golden hair framed his strong stubbled face, his green eyes burned even in the darkness.
Before him at last the red headed archer, a symbol of many things to him after his long hard sojourn in the wastes. This proud and feisty woman was his key to readmission to his rightful place, the end to his exile. Capturing her would be proof of his prowess to all, and even more important she had become a feast to his eyes and his sexual imagery. She was no easy, frightened little girl like Maya so willing to please, or the delicate, easily crushed flower like Frances had been, nor was she the haggard, compliant wife of a dead man captured on a village raid. No, she was unlike any other women he had ever set eyes on. Every line of her body infused with grace and pride, strong and true, like a lioness.
Avidly Aran's eyes consumed her form as she drew closer, she was more than pleasing to him, she was magnificence to him in a way he did not fully understand. He felt his long deprived body responding to her proximity and he tried to will his lustful response aside. However her beauty assailed him, her long tanned legs perfectly muscled, her stomach sculpted and flat, provocatively peeking out from in-between the waistband of the short hide skirt and the hardened leather bodice. Breasts round and firm rising and falling with each breath, the long red ponytail tied with rawhide that reached right down her back cascading like thick rope over her lean, tanned shoulder.
Aran willed his eyes away from the promise of her breasts with some effort, determined he would not let this woman best him again. His body bunched, wound like a tightly coiled spring, he had deliberately divested himself of his weapons even his sword lest he betray his presence in a moment of carelessness. He did not need a weapon to subdue this quarry, and he had spent many weeks ruminating over the deliciousness of this moment. Even though deep down he had never thought it would truly come.
The cave was deep but the ceiling dropped away markedly toward its rear making it usable for little more than storage. Aran watched the statuesque woman crouch as she advanced, she was very close to him now, he could hear her each intake of breath and the soft sound of her feet scuffing on the stone. She would see him at any moment...
The golden warrior sprang toward the object of his desire and exile, his strong hands reaching for the wrist that held the blade. Aurianne recoiled in fright, instantly she knew it was a mistake. She was hardly the disciplined fighter Aran was, and that moment of her indecision cost her dearly.
She clung to the knife with all she had, trying vainly to drive it anywhere into the man's bronzed flesh as his superior weight pushed her to the hard floor. She was a woman of uncanny strength and size and had bested many of the men in practice bouts in her village, and on the battlefield too.
However this man who assailed her was no mere farmer playing at soldier, he was a killer tried and true, with strength that was far superior to hers. Aurianne was in truth terrified to encounter this savage man again, her heart leapt in fear when she had sighted the familiar bejeweled hands and the golden mane of hair of her nemesis who bore no name. She could not believe he had located her, even whilst she was desperately trying to gain a target with her knife these thoughts burned her.
Aran however was not hindered by fear, surprise, nor guilt, and proceeded to pin the woman with all his weight, twisting her wrist in an all out effort to make her drop the blade that was perilously close to his ribs. His other hand on her ponytail pulling her head backward, hindering her movement and vision.
Fear welled in Aurianne's heart, its icy grip in her very veins as she felt the burning pain on the flesh of her wrist, her skin being twisted brutally in an inexorable move by her attacker to divest her of the weapon. Locked in this desperate struggle her mind only focused on the tip of her blade and the fact she was losing the battle of brute strength by slow degrees. Aran surprised at the woman's physical power, but quietly confident he would be the victor, reveling in her scent and her closeness.
Aurianne close to panic was fighting to maintain any clarity of thought, suddenly realizing she still had the luxury of one free hand at her disposal. She clawed at Aran's face with her nails aiming for his eyes, any underhanded action to make him stop or pause, that she might find purchase on the blade that was steadily slipping from her control. Aran blocked her defensively and instead Aurianne scratched deep bloody furrows down his cheek.
Her action only seemed to incense the warrior all the more, further increasing his pressure on her knife arm. Though he did release her ponytail in favor of pinning down her errant hand. Her head now free Aurianne twisted under him biting him deeply on the shoulder up close to his neck, the taste of him, his blood, and his salt sweat in her mouth. Aran roared in pain and Aurianne gasped as the knife she had so striven to keep hold of clattered to the stone floor beyond any hope of her redemption.
